There are some things we do because we convince ourselves it would be better for everyone involved. We tell ourselves that it's the right thing to do, the altruistic thing to do. It's far easier than telling ourselves the truth.

They say that there are moments that open up your life like a walnut cracked, that change your point of view so that you never look at things the same way again.

But once you throw a stone, there are ripples in the pond, even if you remove the rock.

Well I talk a little about that, but I don't admit that from the beginning I knew we were not meant to be together.

Heroes didn't leap tall buildings or stop bullets with an outstretched hand; they didn't wear boots and capes. They bled, and they bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back.

How could you not want to draw breath one more day? How could your own life be such a cheap commodity? But then I started to understand: when your existence is hell, death must be heaven.

I know what it's like when the things you believe make you feel like you're on the outside looking in.